


Secondhand

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Horny Teenagers, Joe's Couch, Memories, almost M, high T rating, it's just nostalgia you sickos, not underage I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they inherit Joe's leather couch, Iris takes the opportunity to fill Barry in on some of the thoughts she had about it and him. </p>
<p>"It took him a moment or two, but he opened both eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. “Iris. Ann. West. Are you telling me you had dirty thoughts about me and this couch?”</p>
<p>“I was a healthy young woman and you were a healthy young man, and anybody who tells you teenage girls don’t think about sex as much as teenage guys do is a big fat liar.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secondhand

When the movers left, Iris was cooing over the newest occupant of her living room. “It’s ours,” she breathed. “The couch … is ours.”

Barry took a running leap and bellyflopped onto the couch, knocking one of the cushions to the floor.

Iris picked it up and whacked his butt with it. “You have no sense of ceremony.”

He squirmed onto his back and let out a gusty sigh. “What I have is like a zillion sore muscles from helping your dad move, so this is my ceremony.” He stretched his arms up over his head and then laced his fingers together behind his neck.

Iris picked up his long legs and slid in under them, dropping them over her lap again as she sank into the cushions. “I helped move too.”

“You stood around telling us what to do,” Barry said, eyes closed.

“Which was exhausting. You guys are like a pack of headless chickens, all that running around. Somebody had to take charge.”

He cracked open one eye. “What, you didn’t trust Cecile?”

“Cecile was at the apartment directing. I was directing at the house.” And it had been an afternoon full of pangs, watching furniture being removed bit by bit. But she was gone, and so was Barry, and her dad had been rattling around that house like a ball bearing in a kid’s game for far too long.

When he’d told her that he was moving in with Cecile, she’d squealed with joy, and it had only been later that she realized that meant he was moving out of the house where she and Barry had grown up.

But it eased the sting some, her dad giving them the couch.

She stroked the leather. “You remember when my dad first bought this?”

“Uh-huh,” Barry said. “That was before my mom died.”

She squeezed his knee. “You remember the rules?”

“Oh my god, the rules. Um, no shoes, no liquids … ”

“No food … crap, what was the last one?”

“Pointy objects.”

“Pointy objects! No pointy objects.”

“And I swear he had ESP. He always seemed to call to check up on us just when we’d sat down with a bowl of cereal or something.”

“Yes! Yes. Cop-sense. Ooooo.” She made a face. That cop-sense had gotten on her nerves more than once over the years, and not just in regards to the couch.

“I took so many after-school naps on this couch, the fall of my junior year.”

“Um, yeah, I remember. What sport was that?” she asked in an innocent voice. “That wore you out so much?”

Barry scrunched up his face. “You know it was cross country.”

She giggled. “You were so slow.”

“It wasn’t that I was that slow of a runner, really, I just kept getting lost.”

“They had the trails marked, Bare.”

“I know, but … I would miss them … ”

“And then coach made you run extra miles for coming in last.”

“Which, does that seem counterproductive to you? Like, he should have made the winners run extra because they had all that time to kill waiting around for the slowest guys.”

“Then what incentive would they have for winning?”

“Psssh, whatever, they liked running. They would have been fine.” He burrowed his shoulders into the cushion.

“So you were all worn out, and you’d fall asleep on this couch at least three times a week. Sometimes four.”

“Really? That much?”

“Mhm.”

He cracked an eye open. “That’s a very specific memory you’ve got there.”

She looked up at the ceiling. “I might have … thought about joining you a few times.”

“What, to nap? You could have pushed me over, I don’t think I would have noticed. Those practices seriously wore me out.”

“Mmmnnnnnnoooooo … Not to nap.”

It took him a moment or two, but he opened both eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. “Iris. Ann. West. Are you telling me you had _dirty thoughts_ about me and this couch?”

“I was a healthy young woman and you were a healthy young man, and anybody who tells you teenage girls don’t think about sex as much as teenage guys do is a big fat liar.”

He goggled at her for a little bit while she made prim faces, giggling on the inside. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’m going to need some more details about these thoughts of yours.”

“Dreams too. A few times.”

“Wh- you _dreamt_ about - Whew. Yep. Definitely now I need all the details.”

“Bare, it was years ago.”

“I’ve shared at least a few of my teenage fantasies with you and I had nooooo problem remembering them.”

No, no, he sure hadn’t. She grinned. “Okay. Well. Lie back. Uh-huh. Close your eyes.”

“Should I snore?”

“Just don’t drool.” She settled her hands on his thighs. “That was after the summer where you grew six inches - ”

“Seven,” he said.

She rolled her eyes a little. Boys. Needed credit for every last inch. “Okay, seven. Anyway, you’d just gotten _so tall_.”

“Which was probably partly why I was sleeping so much, growth spurt on top of the physical exertion - ”

“Barry.”

“Uh, yeah, right. I’d gotten so tall.”

“You had. And I’d look at you on that couch and I just wanted to run my hands all over you.” To demonstrate, she stroked his leg, from thigh to ankle. His foot twitched, and the corners of his mouth curled up.

“And I wanted to just sliiiiiiide my body on top of yours - ” She slithered over him, settling into the familiar curves of his body, letting them fit together.

His arms started to creep around her waist.

“Uh-uh,” she said, pushing them back. “You were still asleep.”

“How did I sleep through this?”

“My fantasy, my rules.” She put her hand to his cheek, pressing until he turned his head. “And you’d always sleep with your face sort of buried in the back of the couch, like this, and I could see this little spot - ” She brushed her fingertip lightly over it. “Behind your ear, just where your hair ended. And I wanted to _lick_ it.”

She did, and he let out a noise between a grunt and a moan. “Is - is that why you always go for that - that spot?”

“It’s still cute.”

“Can I wake up now?”

“Mmmm, maybe a little.”

His hand crept around into the curve of her waist, then drifted up the slope of her ass. Against her thigh, his dick was hardening in a familiar way.

“So - what then?” he asked breathlessly.

“It varied,” she said. “Every time you wore those awful button-downs, I would think about undoing the buttons - one by one - and just kissing my way down your chest.”

“Aw shit,” he muttered. He’d worn a Star Labs t-shirt today, for moving.

She giggled at him. “T-shirts, now, t-shirts, I figured I would just slide my hands up under the hem and sort of run my fingers over your stomach - ” She demonstrated. “Around your belly button … here over your hipbone … along your waistband …”

“Okay, no way was I still asleep for this.”

She shifted until her knees were on either side of his hips, and levered herself up to a sitting position. “Nope. Sure weren’t. I’d want you to see when I did this.” She waited until his eyes popped open to pull her shirt over her head.

He sighed. “That is worth waking up for.”

She bit her lip, smiling down at him. He slid his hands up, skimming his fingertips over her sides, and she caught her breath. He smiled back. “So what next?”

“Mmmm.” She draped herself over him, rubbing their noses together, giving his lips a whisper of a kiss. “How about you tell me? What next?”

He lifted his head to kiss her more deeply, and she sank her hands into his hair, lightly running her nails along his scalp. His hand slid over her ass again, pulling her hips into his. She pressed against him, breath coming faster as her pulse beat between her legs.

He pulled away. “So, tell me, how often did you have these fantasies?”

“Barry.”

“Like, a weekly estimate.”

“Barry! I’m about to achieve a long-held goal of getting lucky on this couch, if you would just shut up and let it happen.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, right. Shutting … mmm. Shutting up.”

FINIS


End file.
